


A Very Bad Year

by hydriotaphia



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 20:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydriotaphia/pseuds/hydriotaphia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU look at the 2009 Wimbledon final. Slightly crack-y, slightly angsty. And a bit mocking to boot! ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Bad Year

Roger was sure he had no talent at fortune-telling. But that off-hand comment about bad years and breaking his leg was dug up and plastered across newspapers all over the world when, in a style completely his own, he lunged for an impeccable drop shot - racquet head dropped low to scoop - and desposited it neatly behind an astonished Roddick, right before his feet did the slippery-slide glide across the grass and momentum carried him straight into the players chairs, ending with a _crack_ where his ankle met his shin.  It was too faint a sound to be heard above the clicking of cameras.

Roddick got to him first, pulling his racquet bag away from under Roger's right hip. Roger found himself eased onto his back, Andy leaning close over him and dripping sweat in a quick patter onto his chest. Then the trainers were there and he was being wheeled away at 0-30, 4-5, one set down.

Thus ended the 2009 Wimbledon final between Roger Federer and Andy Roddick.

\--

At the trophy presentation, Andy said, "It took five years and a chair to beat Roger here. But I like shiny things" and he raised his trophy, "so...thank you."

The crowd tittered nervously.

The pictures were all over the newspaper the following morning: Roger on a stretcher, Andy with a trophy.

Andy's presser was one of the most downloaded videos on youtube.

"Yeah," the soundbyte ran at 2:45, "it was carefully orchestrated. I knew it was the only way I'd win. It was easier than punching him."

"It sounded really nasty. I hope the damage isn't too bad and he can heal up quickly" at 3:03. "It's a freak accident honestly. Another of Roger's records [that are] really hard to top..."

An interviewer's voice at 3:18, "Will it be strange to be without Roger on tour?"

"Are you kidding me? The No. 1 and 2 players in the world are both nursing injuries and we've got one more Slam left in the season. It's going to be war." A subtle reminder that Nadal too was out of commission and the field was wide open.

All jokes aside, Andy finished with, "Look, I know you came to congratulate me. And I know most of you can't believe I won it this way. You know, I wish it were different. I was playing really well. ...I wish Roger the best for a speedy recovery."

\--

He went to the hospital to sign Roger's cast the next day, drawing gold sparkles on it despite Roger's protestations. Mirka shifted heavily in her chair, laughed at them both, and waddled for the bathroom at high speed.

"It's probably a good thing," Andy observed, "that your wife is here with you now. It's not far to the delivery room."

Roger looked tense and tired. "I don't know what to do," he said finally.

"Don't worry," Andy quipped back, "the doctors have a good idea."

He warmed a little bit inside when Roger laughed.

"How bad is it?"

Roger reached up to brush hair off his forehead. "Broken bones in the ankle. Maybe eight weeks to heal and then physio and training to get back into match shape."

"It will take some time."

"Yeah. Six months. I give myself six months."

"So, six months. And then?"

By way of answer Roger pointed to the white jacket hanging over a red sofa in the corner of the room. Andy picked it up, turning it over in his hands until the symbol finally caught his eyes - a small gold '15' on the back.

"But next year," Roger said from the bed, "I'm wearing soccer spikes."


End file.
